The silence between them was thick, laced with things unsaid and things too dangerous to name.
Hayden sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline of the night. The fight at the warehouse had been brutal—another attempt on his life, another move by someone who wanted to end the Moretti legacy. But right now, his thoughts weren't on blood or enemies.
They were on Ana.
She stood near the window, wrapped in nothing but one of his black silk shirts, the sleeves hanging off her delicate wrists. Moonlight etched soft silver across her bare thighs, and her hair was tangled from where his hands had been earlier—fisted in desperation, in craving, in need.
"You could've died tonight," she said softly, not looking at him.
Hayden didn't answer. He couldn't. Because her voice—shaking, vulnerable—unraveled something inside him he'd spent a lifetime building.
"I don't care about your enemies, your war, or your father's name." She turned to face him, eyes glistening. "But I can't lose you, Hayden. I won't."
That broke him.
He crossed the room in two strides, gripping her by the waist and pulling her flush against him. His lips crashed against hers, all heat and chaos, like he was starving and she was the only thing that could save him. Her fingers curled into his hair, her body melting into his like they'd been made for each other—built from fire and ruin.
He carried her to the bed without breaking the kiss.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, voice raw as he laid her down. "Not tonight. Not ever."
Their clothes disappeared like smoke—his urgency matching hers, a shared fever taking over. Her skin burned under his touch, every kiss he placed on her neck and collarbone a silent apology for all the danger, all the darkness. She gasped when his hands slid lower, when his lips trailed down her stomach, branding her like a promise.
"Tell me to stop," he said against her thigh, voice hoarse. "And I will."
"No," she breathed, threading her fingers through his hair, guiding him back to her. "Don't you dare."
He smiled, just a flicker—then kissed her again, slower this time. It wasn't just desire now. It was need. Worship. Regret. Hope.
And love.
They moved together like waves crashing against the shore—wild, unstoppable, raw. He whispered her name like a confession. She cried out his like a prayer.
When it was over, they lay tangled in the sheets, his arms around her, her cheek pressed against his chest.
For a moment, there was only peace.
But Hayden knew better than to trust peace.
"There's something you need to know," he said quietly, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare back.
Ana shifted, raising her head slightly. "What is it?"
"There's a new player," he said. "Someone powerful. Not one of my father's old enemies. This is different."
She tensed. "Do you think they're after me?"
He hesitated. "I think they're after us."
A cold chill slid down her spine, even as his warmth surrounded her. "Who?"
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But whoever it is—they want to destroy everything. Including what we've built."
Ana sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist. Her eyes searched his. "Then we fight. Together."
Hayden looked at her, this woman he'd once planned to destroy. Now she was his reason for fighting.
And he'd burn the world before he let it take her.